It's Been Awhile
by Nanatsusaya
Summary: Same old, same old. [5x3-ish]


 It's Been Awhile… 

The late afternoon heat streaming down from a reddening sun was not quite oppressive, saved only by a feeble breeze not strong enough to stir the lightest of dust particles in the dry street.  Down to the last wilting leaf on a nearby tree, everything was cast in an orange glow and it glinted off one thing in particular.  Seated at on an tattered stool under the insignificant cover of a rickety street vendor's booth, was a slender man with shining gold hair he had hadn't bothered to trim lately drawn back into a short ponytail.  He had been wearing slightly worn tan robes, but this sort of weather dictated that he strip off the upper part of the garment.  Normally, he would have also been wearing a tight black shirt and gloves underneath, but this sort of weather was not good for that either and the pale skin of his back and arms was exposed to the sun, dusted red at the shoulders and across the cheeks with a hint of sunburn.  In one bony hand the man held a squashed cigarette, accepting a light from the vendor with a grunt of thanks.  The other hand was clasping the handle of a swiftly warming mug of beer, but he hadn't taken more than a few sips yet despite the fact that his drink would soon be unpleasantly hot.  

The vendor's makeshift establishment was nothing special—two and a half walls leaving it open and friendly to passerby, several planks making up both the leaky floor and the leakier roof, a table with two broken legs serving as a bar, three stools and a chair for customers to sit on.  An old radio that played mostly static did it's best to whine out some muzzy tune from its place next to the motley selection of alcohol on one of three brittle shelves along the left wall.  There were other bars in this backwater town—ones residing in real buildings with real roofs and real walls—but the air would be stale and nauseating in those, trapped by their real doors and real windows and the pungent smell of alcohol.  So, the man was staying out-of-doors until nightfall, when the temperature of the town would drop to something below skin crackling.  

There were very few townspeople out and about, most of them preferring to lurk on their porches and balconies or in the thin shade of the trees in the park.  They only took to the streets if it was absolutely necessary and even then it took a whole lot of motivation to move in such weather.  One such person, who happened to be tall with brilliant red hair and skin tanned golden, was shuffling down the street in the general direction of the open-air bar.  Normally, this man would have been wearing a blue vest and headband with heavy boots, but this sort of weather was not good for that.  Instead, his smooth hair swished loosely around shoulders only covered by the thick straps of a white tank top and old pants rolled up to his knees with feet bare.  Crammed in his pocket was a pack of cigarettes, the top of the box sticking out just a tad.  

The red-haired man stopped behind the blonde, pausing to wipe beads of sweat off his forehead collect his heat-lethargic thoughts.  His eyes traveled longingly over the arch of the other's back and along the slim neck up through his soft gold hair.  He frowned a little when noticing familiar scars on man's ribs.  The old bartended glanced up for a moment and hobbled around behind the table to wash another glass.  The redhead took a couple hesitant steps forward.

"…Sanzo?" 

The blonde man turned his head, expression carefully blank in place of the usual scowl.  Sanzo turned back to his drink, a subtle invitation for the redhead to join him hanging in the air between them.  Gojyo sat carefully next to him, half out of respect for the good service of a stool that should have been retired long ago (but more the fact that he didn't want to end up on the floor) and half nervous that any sudden movements might startle the strange creature commonly known as 'Sanzo'.  The bartended set a cracked glass full of beer in front of the redhead and, noticing Gojyo was removing the flattened pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offered him a wavering flame.  The kappa shook his head with a muttered 'thanks, but I've got one' and lit the stick with a silver lighter.  He turned the lighter over his broad hand twice and felt the small scratches and nicks from years of travel and hard use.  Sometimes when Gojyo was bored or apathetic he would examine the marks and attempt to remember what calamity had marred the perfect reflective surface of his lighter.  The triangular on near the hinge was from Shaku Jou he suspected and the big gash along the bottom had to have been from a bullet most likely out of Sanzo's gun.  

"It's been a while." Gojyo said absently, taking a long drag from his cigarette.  He shrugged off the priest's lack of reply and concentrated on the few lines of song that could be heard through the radio's static, sucking smoke into his lungs and letting it out in a rhythmic circle.  The drink Gojyo hadn't tasted yet, keeping it with him more out of principle that you came to a bar to have a drink rather than wanting it.  Besides, the booze here must be terrible if even Sanzo had left his.  

"Wish this mother fucking heat wave would fizzle out.  Even the well water's turned lukewarm."

"Mn."  Sanzo was listening to the kappa's one-sided conversation with detached interest.  Most of his attention was turned toward the hypnotizing drone of summer cicadas, moving in lazy waves around the town.  Here and there the noise would seem miles away, then right above you, or across the street.  Their song was staggered like a round in an off-key choir, a few starting quietly with more joining in as the crescendo rose to its peak before tapering off to let the next tree-full have a go.    

Gojyo shifted awkwardly in his seat, somewhat perturbed by the priest's unnatural demeanor, and began to wish he hadn't bothered to come.  "Normal people talk to old friends, you heartless bastard."  The irritated edge in the kappa's tone faded as his hand ghosted over Sanzo's sunburned shoulder and along the priest's jaw.  

" 'Ch…." A little of the familiar sharpness returned to Sanzo's eyes and he leaned forward heavily on the palm of one hand, beginnings of a scowl poised on his lips.  Gojyo suppressed a smirk, snubbing out the remains of his cigarette in the coffee mug that served as the bar's sole ashtray.  

Much relieved the redhead twisted around on his stool and leaned his elbows back on the table.  The sun was starting to set, coral tint of the failing light washing over the town to replace the red-orange of afternoon.  Long shadows crept into the bar, stealing silently toward Gojyo's outstretched legs.  The insects still hummed their summer song repetitively outside and a family across the way ventured to step onto their sparse lawn.  Sanzo lounged against the table next to him, seemingly more relaxed than before as he was watching a small cockroach scurry along the wall with lazy, half-lidded eyes.  

Tilting his head toward the priest, Gojyo smiled playfully and began, "So…I was thinking—"

"You can think?" the blonde shot back, quirking one narrow eyebrow in feigned surprise.  

"Heh…" _Same old Sanzo…._  The kappa turned his back on the dusty town and signaled for the bartender to pour him a fresh drink.  The comfortable silence Sanzo kept while they sat no longer bothered him.  Watching the priest smoke was good enough, airborne ashes from the cigarette framing his face in slow swirls.  


End file.
